79's is packed full of clones, a few Twi'lek servers weaving in and out of the bodies and serving drinks. With two companies on leave and this bar being the closest to base, it was bound to be overflowing with troopers who wanted to spend time with their brothers before going back to battle.
The building itself seems to vibrate with the strength of the music from whatever pop song was playing over the speakers. A few clones who were drunk enough not to feel shame were dancing as best they could (which wasn't good at all) in the middle of the space in front of the bar, trying to get some of the servers and others clones to join them. Soon enough the buzzing bar space was a dance party and drinks were spilling. A cup slips from a drunken clone's fingers and, still being drunk, he tries to sweep up the shards into his helmet to throw them out. It takes a few people to get him to stop.
Yousa watches all of this happen from her place at one of the bar's tables, sitting back into the plush fake leather seats. Thus far, she hadn't touched her drink and didn't plan to.
"Hey, brother!" Cutter launches himself into the booth, knocking into Yousa and spilling his drink everywhere. Giggling, he wipes it off with his hand and sits on the spill. "Nobody'll see it this way!" he whispers loudly. Smiling, he leans back and levels a look at Yousa, putting a boot on her thigh. "How ya been, bro?"
Either Cutter doesn't notice her grimace or he just doesn't say anything. It's hard to tell. "I was thinking of heading out, actually," Yousa says, finally taking a sip of her drink. It's cold on her lips but warms her throat.
Another clone—Ro—climbs on the seat to collapse next to Yousa, idly tugging on strands of her hair. "Why'd you bleach it? It's gonna be all dry and frizzy…" he says. He yanks the band off of Yousa's bun and starts messing with her hair.
"Hey—knock it off!" Yousa swats his hand away and snatches the band back. She stands to leave but realizes she'd have to try and step over Cutter or Ro in order to actually make it out. Her aggravation rises and she groans out loud.
"Where ya headed to, Yousa?" Ro asks, tapping her leg.
"You gonna try on some skirts again?" Cutter smirks. "Or is it gonna be a dress like last time?"
Dread rises in Yousa's stomach and her insides curl in both anger and fear. "I'm just taking a walk," she grinds out, making to force herself past Cutter.
"Want me to come with you? I'll tell you if your butt looks big in anything and zip up your dresses for you." Cutter and Ro roar with laughter, falling over themselves and pushing the table out of the way.
Yousa manages to squeeze past Cutter, her skin on fire. Why'd they have to bring up that day every chance they got? She'd been enjoying herself until Cutter brought to light one of the most embarrassing days of her life.
"Where ya goin', brother? The party's over here!" A heavily drunk clone tries to drag Yousa over to the swarming mass of people in front of the bar.
"Yousa's gonna buy a dress!" Cutter crows, and he yells it louder when he sees the look of horror on her face. A group of clones nearby laughs, gravitating toward their table until Yousa is nearly surrounded.
"Why're you buyin' dresses?" A blue-haired clone asks. He narrows his eyes at Yousa's body. "Can't fit it over yer armor. Don't see why you'd need it…"
"'Nless you got a big one…" another adds. He starts laughing at the image of a massive dress on a clone.
"It's cause he thinks he's a girl!" Cutter throws an arm over Yousa's shoulder. "Ain't that right, Yousa? You wanna get a pretty dress and yer makeup and kiss all the boys—"
That earns a loud row of laughter from the group of clones surrounding them. One cups his hands over his chest to mimic breasts. "How do I look, boys?" He starts sashaying and doing what he thought was a woman's walk. "You want some?"
Yousa can't take any more. Throwing Cutter off of her, she storms away, her face aflame and blood boiling. As she shoves her way through the crowd, not bothering to stop when she nearly knocks a server over, she can hear Cutter tell everyone about when she tried on skirts and thought the squad wasn't watching. Yousa wants to throw up.
Outside, the air is much cooler. There are small groups of clones gathered in bunches near the entrance. One erupts into laughter and Yousa stays away from them, huddling by the edge of light cast from and outdoor bulb.
"Hey there, bud," a clone says. Yousa's about to tell them to fuck off when they speak again. "You were the one from that scene inside. You alright?"
Yousa looks up and first notices the clone's hair, which is shoulder-length, wavy, and dark at the top but blue-green towards the end. And then she notices the…eyeliner? How'd he manage that? "As fine as I'll ever be." This wasn't the first time it'd happened. The next day her squad either pretended it didn't happen or "apologized".
The clone gives Yousa a sympathetic look. "Well, come on. Let's walk—you said you were gonna take a walk, and you don't look like you wanna go back in there," he says at Yousa's look. He takes two steps forward and turns to beckon Yousa when she doesn't move.
Yousa reluctantly follows, watching the stranger's hair bounce with his steps. He caches a glimpse of his helmet, where "She/Her" is written in bright red aurebesh on the side. "What's your name?"
"Dusty" is the reply, and he keeps walking. "Yours is Yousa, right?"
"Yeah."
Silence. Yousa still doesn't know where she's being led.
"Does Dusty…mean something, in another language?" she asks, trying to find the best way to ask the questions she wants to. "Did you get it from someone, or—"
"This about what's on my bucket?" Dusty spins around but isn't frowning. In fact, he's smiling. "The 'she/her'."
Yousa doesn't quite know what to say. "Uh, yeah. Why did you put that?"
"'Cause I'm a woman."
Oh.
Dusty says it so simply that Yousa doesn't respond for a second.
"You're like me," she blurts. She flinches and can feel panic crawl under her skin. "I-I mean, not that you're like me, because I don't—"
"You're female too?" Dusty looks like she's barely containing excitement, although the only things on her face are raised eyebrows and a slight smile. "Is that why you were trying on those skirts? You're a woman too?"
Yousa feels the guilt clogging her chest. "I-I don't know about that, I just…I don't know." She deflates a little. Looking away, Yousa rubs her thumb against a stray paint mark on her belt. She weighs options in her mind: either tell Dusty the weird thing about her or deny everything and hope she doesn't tell Cutter or Ro this conversation ever existed.
She risks it. "I'd like to be a woman…I-I think I am one, but my squad says it's just some weird thing about me, that it'll go away eventually and I'll be norm—"
"Your squad is wrong," Dusty cuts in fiercely. The lines that formed between her brows deepen and her mouth twists into a scowl. "You're just fine, Yousa. There's nothing wrong with you and it is completely okay to be a woman, understand?"
Yousa doesn't say anything for a long, long moment. "Are you sure?" she asks. Parts of her are warring with Dusty's passionate words and she doesn't know how to feel about them. Was it really normal? Yousa is a clone, and clones are biologically male—unless she was born female, which she doubted.
Dusty sees the look on Yousa's face and purses her lips. Without a word, she grabs her hand and pulls her with such strength Yousa has no choice but to follow, although she protests loudly.
"Where are we going? Hey slow dow—where are you taking me?" Yousa grunts as the grip on her hand reaches painfully crushing levels. "You're hurting me!" The grip lessens but Dusty doesn't so much as slow down.
"We're going to have fun, Yousa."
"What—"
"You're squad doesn't know what they're talking about. There's nothing wrong with you trying on those skirts, Yousa." They finally pull up to a clothing store that's open for whatever reason.
Yousa manages to pull her hand free. Standing outside the door, she eyes the mannequins in the window. "What time is it?"
"Probably around midnight." And Dusty yanks her inside.
The interior is well lit, with a women's, men's and kid's section of clothing. It isn't large, but there's a fair amount of clothing. There are signs pointing to changing rooms towards the back.
Dusty leads the way and Yousa follows like an obedient child, trying to figure out what Dusty is plucking off racks so confidently. She heads to the changing rooms and shoves half the armful of clothing at Yousa. "Here, try these on. If you need something, just tell me; I'll be in the stall right next to yours."
"Wait, what am I doing, exactly?" Hopefully not what she thought it was.
Dusty faces Yousa and looks her in the eye. "You need to be comfortable with this part of you, Yousa," Dusty says. "It's alright saying you're a woman even if other people try to tell you otherwise." Her shoulders sag and she sighs. It's a moment before she says anything. "I was in the same position you're in, ya know," she says. "I didn't know if feeling like I was a woman was normal or acceptable or not. But…" Dusty grabs Yousa's free hand and squeezes it affectionately. "I realized that I am who I am, Yousa. It's okay for me to be a woman even though I'm a clone—and it's okay for you, too. Screw what your squad says."
Yousa is so touched she doesn't know what to say. A flower blooms in her chest and spreads all through her limbs till her whole body is warm and light-feeling. "My general is supportive of me…" she says. "She's one of two people I know doesn't judge me for feeling like a woman."
Dusty beams, her smile stretching even to her hair, which Yousa swears is happier-looking, somehow. "You've got friends! Now try on this skirt before I take it and wear it myself." She gives a playful shove towards the stall and rushes into her own.
Yousa stares at the clothing in her hands. How did Dusty know what would be her size? Carefully, she places the clothing on the chair in the stall and strips, standing in just her boxer briefs in front of the mirror. She selects a skirt and tries it on, admiring the flowiness of it.
"Show me what you have on!" Dusty's head pops up above the divider. She must have been standing on the chair. "Yousa, you have to put a shirt on."
"Which one?" Yousa pokes through the pile, half of which has since fallen to the floor.
"Um…that one! With the stripes!" Dusty points and disappears behind her divider again. "Tell me when you're done!"
Yousa puts the shirt on and tucks it in, examining herself in the full-length mirror. She turns, eyeing her outfit from all angles. There's a banging on her door.
"Lemme see!"
Reluctantly, Yousa opens the door and presents herself to an eager Dusty. "How do I look?"
Dusty smiles. "I really like it, Yousa. Purple is a good color for you." She grabs her by the shoulders pulls her out to the multiple sets of mirrors in the main viewing area. "Tell me your favorite part of it."
Yousa examines herself in the mirror. The black-and-grey striped shirt has sleeves that reach her elbows and a v-neck. "I like she shirt." It would reveal cleavage if she had breasts. "I think I look good in patterns like this. And the skirt has pockets."
Dusty claps. "Great! Go try on something else now. Meet me out here."
The pair tries on clothing and judges each other's outfits for what feels like the next two hours. Yousa relaxes and gets more adventurous with her outfits, although she never tries on the strapless things that Dusty has. Yousa twirls when the skirt she has allows it, admiring everything about every article of clothing she picks out (except for one particularly horrid grey turtleneck with a bantha on it).
They take pictures with their helmets and, although the images are washed out, they manage to capture some of the very bright colors in Dusty's leggings or Yousa's skirts.
Dusty, now in a miniskirt and leggings, sits on the floor outside Yousa's dressing room. "If we see each other again, you wanna try this out again? Hopefully it'll be during the day, when there are more stores open."
"I'd love to," Yousa says, and she means it.
Dusty grins, showing all her teeth. "Maybe next time we can—" She gasps without warning and launches herself from the floor, rushing between the racks to the opposite end of the store.
Yousa rushes after her, tripping on a stand and nearly crashing to the ground. "Dusty wait!" she stage whispers. When she catches up to her friend, she looks around. "What are you looking for?"
Dusty points at the mannequin on display. "That dress was made for you."
The dress has thin straps and it's red with white polka dots. The skirt flares out a bit and the whole thing is very girly looking, with a rather large bow in the back. It is backless, as well.
Dusty begins to drag the mannequin down and wrestle the dress off it while Yousa panics at the side, hissing that they weren't allowed to do that and that they'd be kicked out of the store if she didn't stop.
Back at the changing rooms, Dusty is so excited she forgets that Yousa can actually dress herself and tries to rip the clothing off her. "You have to try this, it was made for you—hurry up hurry up hurry up!" When Yousa finally manages to get a strap up, Dusty gasps.
"What? What's wrong?" Yousa tries to turn to look in the mirror, but Dusty stops her.
"I will be right back, you hear? Don't turn around!" And she runs away.
Yousa stands still, barefoot in her stall and fiddling with the dots on her dress. When Dusty comes back she's shoved into the chair. "Don't move while I do this. It'll just be a second—"
"Is that make up?"
"You'll look amazing, trust me! Now close your eyes." Dusty places the items on the floor and gently tilts her head towards the light.
"Where'd you get all that from?" There was no way she could have paid for it.
There's a beat of silence as Dusty rubs something against Yousa's cheekbones. "The makeup section," she answers.
Yousa's eyes fly open. "You took the—"
"Shhh! I'm just borrowing them for now. Please close your eyes, I don't want to mess this up." She rubs something against Yousa's eyes lids.
As she endures being stabbed in the eyes with mascara wands and eyeliner pencils, Yousa's mind wanders. She imagines the other dresses she'd seen on display. There was a blue one with flowers that she'd been really interested in before Dusty had assaulted the mannequin. Yousa opens her eyes to blink some makeup out of them and catches sight of a pair of white boots passing by.
"Done!" Dusty proclaims, dropping the mascara. She pauses. "What's wrong?"
Fear creeps into Yousa's hands, crawling up her veins until she's chilled to the bone and shaking. "I think there's a clone here," she whispers, unable to tear her eyes away from the door. Any second, Cutter or Ro or another of her squad members could burst through the door and see her in a dress that didn't fit properly with piles of women's clothing all over the floor. Yousa's stomach begins to twist and curl violently.
"Wait here." Without hesitation, Dusty stands and practically storms out of the stall. Yousa remains by herself in her anxiety, pulling on the end of her braid. Dusty reappears. "Don't worry, it was just a woman with terrible fashion sense," she says, smiling. "Oh, you've messed your braid up. Here, lemme fix that for you."
Yousa waits patiently as Dusty rebraids her hair, feeling the adrenaline melt out of her body and leave her slightly breathless. She doesn't know what she would have done if it had been Cutter or Ro—cried, probably. She wasn't sure if she would have been able to take the abuse from them.
"Come on, you're going to check yourself out and tell me your favorite parts." Dusty leads her by hand to the set of mirrors in the main viewing area while her other hand hovers over Yousa's eyes. "Are you ready?"
She is less than ready. "Mhm," Yousa says instead. Her nerves begin acting up again.
"Alright…open!"
Yousa didn't know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn't what she saw. The polka dot dress Dusty had chosen reaches her knees and flares out at her waist. She had make up, and it wasn't as bad or amateurish as anything she'd tried to do on herself. Her lips were pink and she had dark eye shadow on.
She felt as pretty as she looked.
"How do you like it?" Dusty pops up over Yousa's shoulder. At some point, she'd changed her clothes and was wearing the aqua blue dress Yousa had been interested in.
"I love it." And it's the truth. Yousa twirls and can't contain her giggle as her dress flares out up around her thighs. "But the top doesn't fit quite right." She glances down and looks right at her nipples.
"I'm gonna stuff it—"
"No you're not."
"Then at least let me help you find a way to get it to fit better." And without waiting for any sort of response, Dusty dashes off to the women's underwear section.
While she's gone, Yousa examines herself in the mirror, trying her best to get a view of herself from all angles. Her muscles don't quite go with the daintiness of the dress, but there were plenty of women who were muscular, so she isn't very bothered. Making sure no one is around, Yousa runs up to the mirrors to get a better look at her makeup. The blush Dusty used puts a rosy glow on her cheeks. Yousa admires the detail of the eyeliner (how'd she get it so sharp?) a woman heading into a changing room walks by.
"You look really nice," she says before heading in. Yousa is too stunned to respond in time, so she just squeals to herself and hope the woman knows how much she appreciated the compliment.
"I'm back!" Dusty proclaims. In her hands are two boxes of shoes and two other things Yousa can't identify.
"What's that?" Yousa points to the black thing.
"It's a bralette."
"A wha—"
"It'll help fill in the dress!" Dusty thrusts the black bralette at Yousa. "And here are shoes for you. We're going out."
Yousa accepts the item but hesitates. "Where are we going? What if someone sees me?"
"No clone is gonna glance at you twice because you'll look like a regular woman going out for a party or something. Trust me." Yousa stoops and puts on the dark blue flats she picked out for herself. "I'm cool with the store owner since I essentially advertise his products and, you know, fight for freedom and whatnot." She laughs at her joke. "Here, put this on and meet me at the front when you're done."
Yousa looks at the black flats, simple with a white band at the front. The bralette looks like it was meant to be a bra for women who weren't ready for the commitment. It's slightly padded and lacy.
Yousa eventually appears at the front. "Who's gonna take care of our armor?"
"I have a buddy." And that's all she says as she leads Yousa by the hand down the sidewalk.
The pair spends what seems like hours walking around Coruscant, bar hopping (without actually drinking much) and visiting various clubs and outlets. They buy some candy but not much else simply because they don't have the money. As they move on, Yousa slowly relaxes more and more, until she's comfortable talking to people and isn't as bothered by whatever lingering look she gets.
Dusty's posture deflates when she looks at the time. "We have to head back now. I think we missed curfew." That would mean a demerit and shining astromechs for a week, not something she is fond of.
Yousa sighs. "This was fun," she says. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to do this again, but…thanks, Dusty. I'll look for you if we're both on leave again."
Dusty pulls Yousa into an impossibly tight hug. "This was great. Just remember you're not weird or wrong for who you are. You're a woman and that's something to celebrate." She squeezes tighter before letting go and finding the way back to the store.
It's still open, which suggests it might be a twenty-four hour clothing shop. They remove their makeup and return the dresses to their respective mannequins, which had been standing naked since they left.
Yousa fingers the fabric of the polka dotted dress. She's back in her armor again and she knows there's leftover makeup on her face. After an unsuccessful attempt at removing the eyeliner without smudging it, Yousa decided it was best just to let it wear off. It was too smudged. "Wish I could keep this…" she says to herself, sad. "It's so pretty."
Dusty throws an arm over her shoulders. "Maybe when you come back here, it'll be waiting for you."
Yousa snorts rather loudly. "Yeah right. After all that 'advertising' we did, it's not gonna be here when I come back." It was saddening, but the truth. "I have to go now. My squad's gonna come looking for me."
Dusty nods and gives Yousa another hug. "Bye."
"Bye."
OoOoO
"Where have you been?" Cutter asks, smirking. "Trying on some skirts? Wearing makeup?"
"Wouldn't put it past him," Ro adds from his bunk. There are a few scattered snickers.
Yousa lays in her own bed, in too good a mood and too confident to let two asses and their asinine comments get to her. "Shut up, both of you. I'm trying to sleep."
"You hear that, Ro? The princess needs her beauty sleep," Cutter says mockingly. "Whatever you say, Your Highness." He rolls over and doesn't say anything past that, which Yousa is glad for.
She eventually nods into sleep herself, the perfect polka dot dress and Dusty's bright smile at the forefront of her mind.
I wrote this for a friend who has a transgender OC. Since he also really liked my transgender clone OC, I decided to write them having a night out.
~AAx